Chip Reader
by starbuckmeggie
Summary: Technology can be difficult, especially when you're impatient. A/U


"Your total today is $23.85."

"'Kay," the man in front of me says, though for a moment I'm not sure if he's responding the amount he has to pay, or to the phone he has glued to his ear. He pulls out his card, though, and swipes it. The machine buzzes at him angrily. He tilts his head at it, puzzled, and swipes again, this time definitely too fast for it to be read. It buzzes again. He shrugs and swipes the card again, still with no luck. I sigh.

"Sir," the cashier says loudly, trying to get the man's obviously divided attention. "You have to use your chip."

"Huh?"

The poor girl looks tired suddenly, and I'm sure she has this conversation with customers at least a dozen times a day.

"Your card has a chip, sir. There's a chip reader at the bottom of the pinpad."

He looks at her blankly, phone still pressed to his ear, and I bite back a laugh at his confusion. I can see the card in his hand. It looks well worn. I'm willing to bet he's had this conversation before, maybe even in this store with the same employee. This place has had chip readers for a couple of years now—some people just can't seem to or don't want to catch on.

"Use your chip, sir."

He blinks again and I take pity on the guy, leaning in and tapping the little slot at the bottom of the touch screen. "Put your card right there."

He glances over at me and smiles, and I find myself oddly floored by how cute he is—deep dimples, dark eyes that crinkle at the edges, and slightly wild, unkempt hair that you could lose a hand in. He shoves the card in the slot and I shake my head. "Turn it around."

"Turn it around?"

"Chip side up."

He holds out the card, look at it speculatively, before flipping it around and shoving it into the slot. An instant later, he snags it out, earning another angry buzz. I can see his forehead crinkle and he shoves the card back into the slot, ripping it out a moment later. Another buzz.

"Sir, you have to leave the card in there for a second," the cashier explains wearily. I don't know if I've ever felt as bad for another person in my life as I do for this cashier right now. I glance over my shoulder, a little relieved to see there's no one behind me. At least there isn't an angry mob with torches and pitchforks, screaming for someone's head.

He shrugs and pushes the card back in, pauses for literally a second, then pulls the card back out. Angry buzz. The cashier looks at me apologetically, but I just shake my head in understanding. She certainly can't help that someone doesn't want to pay attention or listen.

Meanwhile, he's been busily inserting the card and ripping it right back out, each time looking baffled at his lack of progress. I sigh and tap his shoulder. "You've got to leave the card in there. It'll tell you when to take it out."

"I get frequent flyer miles every time I swipe it," he answers, moving the phone away from his mouth for a second, and I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing. I doubt he really believes that, but with the way he's been swiping his card the last couple of minutes, one never knows.

He shoves the card back in the slot and yanks it out, and I gently nudge him out of the way. I take the card out of his fingers and carefully put it into the machine. I look over my shoulder to make sure he's not going to grab it again, but he just looks amused, moving the phone so it's pressed against his neck. "There goes my trip to Hawaii."

I look up at the cashier and hold back a grin. "Credit or debit?" I ask him.

"Uh…"

I sigh again. "Do you know your PIN?"

"Yeah, it's—"

"No! Don't tell me! I just wanted to know if I should press…you know, whatever." I press the debit button, then confirm the total, moving aside for him at the next step. "Okay, put in your PIN. _Don't_ touch the card."

He looks at me bemusedly but does what I say, and I don't think either of us miss the grateful look the cashier gives me. A moment later, the machine beeps and he looks up at me, waiting for his next set of directions. I glance at the cashier to confirm, who gives me a tiny nod. "Now you can take the card."

He grins again and grabs his card, shoving it into his wallet. "Thanks for the help." He looks to the cashier and gives her a bashful smile, and all of her irritation at him seems to melt away. Her cheeks turn pink and she glances back at her cash register, avoiding his eyes. "Thanks for your patience."

She shrugs, grabbing his receipt, putting it in his bag before handing it all to him. "No problem. You have a good day, sir."

He grabs the bag and shoves the phone back to his ear and ambles through the automatic sliding doors.

"Sorry about that," the cashier tells me, ringing up my huge, two-item purchase.

"He a regular?" I ask, following the pinpad instructions without fuss.

"Semi. He does that every time he has to use his card. Most of the time he has cash, but these chip readers really seem to have thrown him off. He never really pays attention to the process. I usually just have to do it for him. Nice guy, just a little pre-occupied."

I take my bag and offer her a smile. "Well, I hope the rest of your shift is uphill from here."

Her face drops just a little, and I can't help but feel enormous sympathy toward her. Working in retail can be one of the most thankless jobs a person could have. She probably has hours left to her day, all filled with people less scatter-brained but infinitely more rude than the man that was in front of me. "Thank you, ma'am. You have a good day, too."

With a silent "thank you" to the universe that a job like this is no longer part of my life, I walk out of the building and head across the parking lot to my car. I hear someone say something that sounds like "Hang on," before a louder, "Excuse me!" I turn and see the man from the store trotting after me, phone pressed against his chest, dimpled grin firmly in place. My heart flutters involuntarily and I try to shake myself out of it. I look around the parking lot to make sure there are witnesses, but it's broad daylight—there are people and cars everywhere, not to mention all the security cameras. All told, I'm probably safer here than I am at home, but it never hurts to be careful.

"What can I do for you?" I finally ask as he comes to a stop in front of me.

"Thanks for all your help in there."

"It's no problem." I look over his shoulder then back to him curiously. "You weren't waiting for me, were you? You know, stalking me or something?"

He looks genuinely alarmed. "What? No! I wasn't…I'm on a never-ending conference call and I just…then I saw you coming out here and…you're screwing with me, aren't you?"

"Little bit."

"We've known each other for all of two minutes and you're already messing with my head?"

"One of my special talents," I answer with a shrug, feeling a smile forming on my lips despite my best efforts.

"Anyway, it was nice of you to do that for me. I guess I'm a little distracted today." He chuckles self-deprecatingly. "Well, more distracted than normal."

"I understand. Technology can be tough for older people."

He looks like he's going to choke for a couple of seconds before he bursts out laughing. "I'm not _that_ decrepit yet, thank you very much!"

This guy might have the best smile I've ever seen. Add in the laugh and I think might actually swoon. He looks down at his phone for a second then back to me apologetically. "Can you…just for a…" I nod and he puts his phone back to his ear. "Yeah. I heard you. No, it sounds great." He shakes his head and mouths _It doesn't_ at me, and I can't help but chuckle. "I think we should talk about it more tomorrow. No, tomorrow. Because I'm not coming into the office now. No. Knock it off. We'll talk tomorrow. Okay. Okay. O _kay_. Yeah. Tomorrow. Okay. Bye." He pulls the phone from his ear and presumably pushes "end" before shoving the device into his pocket. "Sorry about that."

"Lady troubles?" I ask teasingly, though I'm fairly certain he was just talking to a colleague. It's more than a little shameful that I want to know if he was talking to another woman.

"Yeah," he answers, shaking his head ruefully. "Some women, you know?" I feel a little twinge in my gut, hoping he's not about to go off on a sexist rant. "My mom's a real ball buster."

I snort in surprise, bursting out laughing. He grins at me broadly, deep lines forming around his mouth. He's quick—I'll give him that—and I wasn't expecting that at all. I shake my head and catch my breath. "No need to apologize." I wave in the general direction of his phone, and a strange, awkward silence falls between us. Just like that, we're at a loss for words.

"Listen," he says finally, rocking back and forth on his heels. "Think I could buy you a cup of coffee or something? You know, to thank you for your help?"

"Oh! You don't have to—that's so sweet. But…I just helped to help. I don't need a reward." His face drops and I realize I've just shot down what seems to be a very nice man. "Actually, though, I'd love a cup of coffee. That sounds great." His face lights up, eyes crinkling at the edges, and I can't help but smile in response.

"Starbucks is right there, if that works for you." He points back at the shopping center, Starbucks indeed nestled between the grocery store and a gym.

I nod and shove my grocery bag into my purse and fall into step beside him, both of us quiet as we walk into the coffee shop. The line is long, but not unusual for the time of day.

"I don't do this, you know," he says suddenly, hands shoved in his pockets.

"What's that?"

"Hit on women I've just met."

My eyes widen and a laugh bubbles out of me. "You're hitting on me?"

He frowns, making me laugh just a little harder. "I told you I don't really do this."

"You're very sweet," I tell him, and it takes everything in me not to pinch his cheek.

"Always what a guy wants to hear."

"Guys _should_ always want to hear that. Women love a sweet guy."

"Noted," he answers, his voice flat, but I think he's smiling a little.

We get to the front of the line and I can only bring myself to order a grande, no matter how much caffeine my body is begging for. I don't want to abuse his generosity too much. The barista starts to ask for our names but apparently recognizes the man next to me. "Hey, Lyman. How's it hanging?"

He looks at me out of the corner of his eye, a little embarrassed, and shrugs. "It's all right."

"Nice to see you've got company for once." The barista winks at me and the guy—Lyman?—looks a little harassed.

"Yeah, we just want a couple of coffees."

"Two grande house drips for Lyman," he calls out, chuckling. "Watch yourselves, guys. I think his caffeine levels have dropped to critical."

"Funny guy," he grumbles, taking out his wallet. I cringe for a moment, waiting to see how it plays out this time, but he takes out cash and hands it over, shoving his change in the tip jar.

We move off to the side to wait for our drinks, and I can't help but tease him a bit. "Would it blow your mind to know that you can pay here with your phone?"

He turns slowly and faces me, crossing his arms over his chest. "You're screwing with me again, aren't you?"

I shake my head with no small amount of disbelief. Is this guy really that out of touch with technology? "No joke. Starbucks has its own little app that lets you put money on it so you can just scan your phone."

"Okay, I think you made up half of those words."

"Seriously." I pull my phone out of my pocket and tap in my code. I pull up the app and bring it to the payment option before handing it over. I'm relatively sure he can't do too much damage to it just by looking, but I keep a close eye on him just in case.

"Huh," he says, looking marginally impressed. "I'll be damned."

"I guess knowing that most places around here let you pay with your phone is really too much for you to handle right now, isn't it?"

He glances at me out of the corner of his eye and hands my phone back to me. "You know, I'm pretty sure there's an insult in there somewhere, but since I have no idea what you're talking about, I'm going to let it slide."

I chuckle and lean my elbow on the counter, propping my chin in my hand. He's easy to tease, but he doesn't seem to take offense to it. I try to study him as subtly as I can, but I'm probably not doing a very good job of it. He's older than I am for sure—the modern world seems far too confusing for him to have been brought up with technology the way I have—though I wouldn't say he looks old. The deep lines that form when he smiles seem to be present in some way at all times, but it doesn't age him. It just makes him look…nice. Gives him character, as much as I hate to say that. Definitely cute, and I'd go so far as to say he's handsome. He's definitely easy to look at.

"Seems like we make a good team," he says suddenly.

I jump a little, startled, but he doesn't seem to want to call me out on my observation of him. "How's that?"

"Back there, at the store. You bailing me out with the whole card thing."

"Team work _does_ make the dream work," I answer, rolling my eyes. Two coffee cups with the name Lyman appear in front of us, and I thank the barista before he has a chance to call out for us. I grab one of the cups and wander over to the front window, taking a seat in one of the armchairs.

"I'm just saying," he says as he sits in the chair next to mine, "that it's nice to have backup sometimes. I should take you shopping with me all the time. That way when I flake out, you'll be there to swoop in and save the day."

"Sounds like a perfect set up," I say sarcastically. "You get to carry on with life being as oblivious as you want to be, and I get to clean up your messes."

"Well, when you put it that way."

I shake my head and take a very careful sip of my coffee. "Wouldn't it be easier to try to pay attention to how the world around you works?"

"Maybe, but then what would be my excuse to get you to go places with me?"

I can feel a wave of heat rush to my face and know for a fact that my cheeks are bright red. There's absolutely nothing I can do about it. I didn't expect him to say anything like that. "And you told me that you don't hit on women you don't know," I mumble, taking another sip of my coffee.

"It's Wacky Wednesday," he answers earnestly, scooting to the edge of his chair. "Anything can happen on Wacky Wednesday." He reaches out and touches my knee for a second before pulling his hand away uncertainly. "I really don't do things like this. I swear."

I look up at him and give him a small smile. "I believe you."

He nods, looking satisfied that I believe him, and leans back just a little. "You know, I don't even know your name."

"I know your name, though. You're Lyman."

He smiles and shakes his head, pausing for a few moments before stretching out his hand. "Josh. I'm Josh."

I bite my lip and reach out to grab his hand, swallowing heavily at the feel it against mine. "I'm Donna."

"Donna," he breathes, and I instantly love the way my name falls from his lips.

I tighten my fingers against his hand, a smile spreading across my face. "Hi, Josh. It's nice to meet you."

* * *

And that, kids, is how I met your father.

But seriously, this was partially inspired by King Corn, obviously. Not that I stole any dialogue or plot points. It was also inspired by my own real life experiences with people and chip readers. For anyone not in America, that may not make a lot of sense, but they're just becoming widespread here, along with chips in cards. I know that other countries have been using these successfully for some time, but in my country, we reject change. Therefore, a lot of people have experiences very similar to that described above. Anyway, I was in the middle of one such encounter, and this idea hit me, and I thought it'd be hilarious to see Josh struggling with this "new" technology, and then I thought it'd be even better to see how Donna, a complete stranger no less, reacted to it. Most of this I actually wrote down by hand in my spare time at work, which is all sorts of kooky and old school. Hope this was entertaining for everyone!

Plus, I kind of robbed a little bit of the end of Sleepless In Seattle at the end there.

Also, I should mention that I've written something of a smut-fest for our dynamic duo, but I'm struggling with posting it. I'm not sure if I like it or if it flows in a manner that doesn't make me want delete the entire thing. It's been a while since I wrote stuff of the smut/erotic variety, so I'm not quite sure of its quality, but if there's interest in reading it, I'll post it. It's something like 10,000 words, so it'll keep people occupied for sure.

Additionally, to anyone reading this the first time, I'm glad you got here after I made revisions. To anyone reading this again, I'm sorry about the mess that was the initial post. I wanted to post it before going to bed, and I was quite tired, so I didn't bother to check for, you know, anything that sounded like it would make sense. Next time, I should sleep on it and post after rereading. *sigh*


End file.
